


Switching Up the Routine

by Ralkana



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Married Couple, Role Reversal, Trope Bingo Round 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 02:21:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey, so, this new routine we have where I sit at your hospital bedside and wait for you to wake up? Not a fan," Clint said, the joking tone of his voice almost completely covering the way it shook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Switching Up the Routine

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer ~ Marvel's toys, not mine. I'm just playing with them.
> 
> This story was inspired by [this Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. promo picture](http://24.media.tumblr.com/21ea07a8fb6c2e9a88c12aea7715fe70/tumblr_ms1qh2iI8J1rex9kro1_500.jpg), and fills my "Role Reversal" square on my Trope Bingo Round 2 card.
> 
> Thanks to all of Feelschat for their help, support, and cheerleading! Y'all are awesome.

 

Phil woke to the sound of clothing rustling at his bedside. His return to consciousness was slow and foggy, which meant the drugs his captors had forced on him were still lingering in his system. His cheek and abdomen throbbed with the bruises they'd inflicted, and his arms felt mildly sore and achy from being wrenched and tied behind his back.

He blinked slowly in the dim room. His eyes were gritty, his mouth dry, and he swallowed, trying to generate some moisture.

A hand slid carefully behind his shoulders, and he tensed, but it took only a second to recognize the silhouette and the familiar scent of the person leaning over him.

Clint helped him sit up and then handed him a cup of water for him to sip.

"Hey, so, this new routine we have where I sit at your hospital bedside and wait for you to wake up? Not a fan," Clint said, the joking tone of his voice almost completely covering the way it shook.

"Yes, well," Phil said, grunting as he shifted position and the movement pulled not only on the new bruises but also on his still tender scars, "I'm not that fond of our usual routine, where you're the one in the bed."

"Yeah, but we've had years of practice at that one! We've got our roles down, they're practically set in stone. I do something stupid and end up in traction, and you're here when I wake up, bitching about the paperwork I've caused."

"I do not bitch," Phil said flatly. "And I believe you just obliquely called me stupid."

"I didn't say _you_ were stupid. I said what you _did_ was stupid. Bait, Phil? Really? You pretty much taped a sign to your back that said, 'Easy mark. Terrorists, please kidnap me.'"

"Worked," Phil said after another sip of water. His head was starting to throb in time with his cheek and his gut, the beginning of the always fun post-drug headache/hangover. "We got some valuable intel while she was detailing her elaborately evil and unnecessarily complicated plan, and the team ended up rounding up half a dozen of her associates. May and Ward intervened before the serious interrogation could begin."

Clint brushed a gentle finger along his bruised cheek. "I want to kill somebody for this."

"It's just a bruise, Clint. I'm fine."

His husband didn't respond, and Phil took a moment to study him. His lips were pressed into a flat, thin line, his jaw tight, his eyes hooded and dark.

"Hey," he said, reaching for Clint's hand, and Clint instantly took it, tangling their fingers together and bringing their joined hands up to press a kiss to Phil's fingers. Phil squeezed his hand. "I'm fine."

Clint looked unimpressed. "You're just in Medical ‘cause the beds are so comfy?"

"It's just for observation," Phil told him, declining to add that the reason Medical had him under observation was that they weren't quite sure what he'd been shot up with. "They've observed; we can leave."

He moved to flip the blankets back, and Clint's free hand covered his.

"Not a chance," he said.

"Clint -- "

"Exactly how many times, do you think, have you stopped me from getting out of a bed in Medical without clearance?"

"The last time, as I recall, you were nursing half a dozen broken bones and a severe concussion," Phil said with irritation.

"You've been drugged with something unknown," Clint said flatly. "You're not going anywhere."

"...you're right -- I don't care for this new routine, either."

"A little bit later, if you're good, you can have some Jell-O," Clint said with a tired grin, completely unfazed by Phil's glare.

Phil sighed in surrender. "Lime?"

"Only the best for my baby," Clint said, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

With a grunt, Phil wriggled to the side to make room for Clint on the bed. It was going to be a long night, but at least he wouldn't have to spend it alone.


End file.
